Warrior Bride

Wild beauty is not often advertised because of its brusque look. Growing up, I struggled to pick between dainty and fierce aspects of beauty.

I watched my mother let her instincts and all that she had been taught get to work. I watched her moisturise fearlessly, Shea butter would firm any skin it touched. Powder for sticky moments, pepper soup for colds.

Now I am a little grown, I see beauty in the vast colour rather than just black and white. It’s a whole new world.

Never being one for hand-holding, I’ve learn to find diamonds in bark like things.

Ride a little with me, I’m going somewhere. So, as you know wedding season is coming up and brides have been on my mind. Then it came – Warrior bride! What do God’s people look like as he slow dances them to victory?

We are a collective that makes a fiery stampede wherever we go. Our blood has been spilled over centuries and yet we offer our shouts for our King!

A mannequin waits to be awoken,

Waits ever gently for the precision of His hands,

Look see, he has this ability to wield anything into a masterpiece!

Our love promises a beauty that does not fade.

The first hit comes as quick as a high speed train. Then the voices start to whisper profanities. They tell her to stop walking towards her ever-healing balm.

The past that calls her back

When the first hit came,

I want them to go. They overstayed their welcome and kept trying to make me forget your love,

Ex's keeps calling because they missed using we should have given God,

With broken hearts we keep telling them that it’s no longer theirs.

Every time it gets bad, they keep tell us to break up with you.

Unsinkable woman

Twists and turns in my soul,

Body on the surgeon’s table,

Skin bruised from multiple stitches.

Lacerations signifying our deepest rebellion.

We stayed around her for years watching her eyes sink into the abyss of regret.

We’re guilty,

We stood there watching her like she was daytime TV; she promised us change but all she gave us was drama.

Body arching from the cold grey panel,

They say your power defies birth control,

They say that your power will make me more successful than the next,

Collectively we been avoiding the narrow path of motherhood.

Good Mama’s taught them to work for their own and take care of their brothers and sisters.

The wounded called escaping motherhood

They gripped her skin,

All the baggage, was slowly turning the way Tiana’s Gumbo was turning,

Slowly simmering...

The dark lifts and we remember the first time He called us,

'Hold my hand, turn in your pain'

said He 'and turn up the love'.

We went to the land of death,

We live in the land of the dead,

The dead ask to rise,

But only you can raise them.

We’ve turned into ‘come hit me’,

They’ve come with the proverbial bullets,

Bloodied thighs trek through this place of wilderness and land us here.

Here I hand you my filthy rags of goodness,

My mascara'd eyes

and chipped finger nails.

They said you would bind me with a love as strong as death,

They said you would kiss my wounds away,

They said you would lift the veil that you placed on me.

My heart is my your abandon,

Your words are my refuge,

Teach me to implement policies that will lift strangers in adoration of you.

Teach me to take of your business,

Teach me to teach them.

More firm than ever the Lion asks, 'have you set eyes on her - my warrior bride?'...

About the Author
Author: Jokae
Founder and author of How We Love Our Hair, Jokae Ayoola is an author, storyteller, and self-publishing coach who enjoys helping others by sharing the information and experience she has gathered on her publishing journey.
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